sean connery and the junkie two step
by kat9y
Summary: Trainspotting slash. Sick Boy x Renton. After a hit, all Simon 'Sick Boy' Williamson can think about is scoring. Written from Sick Boy's POV. People who have read the original novel get full effect. Rated R for language. Feedback's ace. Revamped on 4.15.0


Sean Connery and the Junkie Two-Step

We're both fucked oot ay our skulls. That last hit packed a bit ay a punch along wi it. Ah can't tell how long we've been laying here lost in fuckin oblivion, but it sure beats being oaff the skag.

**---**Pretty nice shite, eh, Rent boy? ah ask, managing tae turn mah head. Note tae speak in the calmest tones possible, pretending tae be uneffected by the hit ay biblical fuckin proportions. Ah thought it pretty convincing. Plus, the cunt hates it when ah call him that.

**---**Yeah, Si, he gasps shakily, shortening mah name tae the minimal amount ay syllables while his voice quavers. Obviously trying tae pull off mah same actions and keep composed, but falling very short ay yours truly. Ah would scoff at the poor cunt if ah wasn't so pished. That was the only thing we said before we both dropped oaff again. When ah had woken up, the first thing ah wondered was how long ah'd been oot. The shades at Renton's flat were aywis pulled, so the room was just as dark as when we'd shot up.

Shite. This is the worst part. See, Rent boy's goat this theory that when ye're oan junk, all ye have tae worry aboot is scorin. Ah cannae believe that cunt actually came up wi an accurate theory, and though his couldn't hope tae rival any ay mine, ah'm flattered that he tries. Ah can feel massel becoming restless, and ah know ah'll be ravenous fir a shag in nae time. If only it was Alison layin there oan the floor. Or Kelly. Anyone _but_ mah whiny, fucked up excuse fir a supposed best mate. Ah look ower at the cunt and he's still oot cold. Considering mah sex parched body, ah gave Rents the once-ower. Shirtless, laying limp against the floorboards, bare skin glistening wi perspiration from the toxins draining oot ay his body. At least he goat that fuckin rid hair ay his cut so he doesnae look like fuckin David Bowie (who Simone, even under these circumstances, would _never_ consider shagging). Moving oan, ah notice the skintight denim jeans the cunt wears, and ah remind massel tae tell the malnourished bastard tae eat a bit mair. He sure as Hell's skinny enough tae be a burd; awright, ah suppose. First, ah'm in need ay a second opinion. Sean?

_Well, Shimon, under the regular run of thingsh, I'm afraid that I'd have to dishapprove. But under theshe shircumshtanshesh, you may be on to shomething. I'd shay go right ahead; think of it more ash a conquesht inshtead of an act of deshparation._

What ish thish deshparation that ye shpeak ay, Sean? That settles it. Ah'm gaun tae shag Mark Renton. Nae, ah'm gaun tae prove massel so fuckin irresistable that even mah mates cannot turn us doon when it comes tae a shag. Ah finally notice one ay Rents' shoes (worn oot Converse All-Stars. Turn-off, but ah'm not acknowledging it) begin tae move as he woke. Ah turn mah head from him, thankful that he didn't notice that ah'd been staring at him fir the past twenty minutes like a prowling tiger eyes its prey. Ah finally turn back to the cunt, tae find oot that he's returning the look ah was giving him minutes ago. He wants it from us, ah know it. Then again, who wouldn't? This is Sick Boy we're talking aboot here, not your average Franco Begbie. Suddenly, ah realise what ah'm aboot tae do. This is fuckin stupid. Ah get up and grab mah coat that ah'd thrown ower one ay his chairs.

**---**Ah need tae be gaun, Rents. Told Ali that ah'd meet her at the pub. Which is a lie. Then, Rents sits up and grabs the airm ay the chair, trying tae pull hissel tae his feet, but only ends up collapsing oan the floor. That's what the doss cunt gets fir trying tae get up so damn fast. He looks at us with those big bloodshot eyes, tryin tae copy mah look that ah aywis give him. He'll need a fuckin ten-year crash course in the ways ay Sick Boy before he could hope tae get it right.

**---**Ye sure ye need tae be goin? he asks us, sounding desperate. Ah knew he wanted it from us. Ah still wanted it too, but now ah have the upper hand, and the cunt will have tae grovel fir mah services. Ah decide tae mess wi him.

**---**Yeah, said ah'd meet her there in, ah check mah watch, ten minutes. He looked as if his whole world fuckin crashed doon ontae him, and ah'm really beginning tae enjoy masel. Ah turn and head fir the door, and poor Rents practically dives tae his telly and grabs a movie case.

**---**Diamonds Are Forever doesnae have tae be back until tomorrow! The poor cunt shouts at us as ah reach fir the knob. Bribing us wi Bond movies is definitely below the belt.

_He'sh good, Shimon. _He'll have tae do better than that, Sean. As a reward fir the cunt's cunning plan, ah decide tae stick around and keep him company. The Sick Boy is oan safari. After ah announce mah stey, Rents slaps oan this wide grin and jams the cassette into the player. Still shaking from the hit that he hadn't recovered from, he sat hissel doon oan the beat up three-legged couch. Slowly crossing the room, ah lay mah coat back doon and sit next tae the cunt, giving him the notorious look ay mine that could make even the strongest dyke second guess themselves, ma mooth dryin wi anticipation...

The cunt's not even lookin. His glassy eyes are glued tae the fuckin preview. Now ah'm annoyed, and not even the Bond theme can soothe us. Then ah notice that Rents was aywis a Van-Damme kindof cunt, not a Connery man like masel. Maybe this was his intention from the start? Tricky cunt, Rent boy is. Not as dumb as he looks, or sounds. It'll take a bit mair tae outsmart the likes ay Simone. Ah just need tae wait fir him tae take the initiative. Tae make a first move. Not deshparation, conquesht. _Preshishely, Shimon._

Ah get tae tapping mah fingers oan the airm ay the couch and fingering mah ponytail, which is damp from perspiration. Ah'm physically feeling the hunger in mah eyes that should be all too apparent tae a cunt like Rents. But he's still busy watching Sean very shtylishly blow away shome shiteing cunt. _Shank you, Shimon._ Finally the cunt turns his eyes oan me, looking aw shy an timid. And ah mightae called him cute if ah didn't know the bastard. He opens up his lips, and ah grin, knowing what's coming next. Not so crafty now, are ye?

**---**Sick Boy, ye have a cigarette? the daft cunt asks us.

**---**Nae, ah tell im, mah voice having an icy an sharp edge oan it from mah dissatisfied sex drive and the fact that ah'm still comin oaf the hit. A second later, ah dig in mah pocket and light one up fir masel, and Rents doesn't say shite, jist sulks. That's right, ah think, fuckin teasing cunt. Nae one, _nae one_ leads Sick Boy oan. Ah'm considering just getting the cunt wi a sliding tackle in the style ay mah midfield role in the Lothlian Sunday Amateurs' League. But ah hang back; Sick Boy's oan the prowl, biding time before sinkin his claws intae the unassuming prey.

The prowling goat tiring by the time the fuckin credits rolled, and ah decided that ah'd had enough ay Rents' evasion. Ah stand up and sling mah coat oan, heading fir the door without a word. From behind, ah hear Rents coming after us, and then ah felt his airms wrap around mah waist.

**---**Dinnae leave us Simone, the cunt whimpers. He had a tendency tae become paranoid while coming oaf. Ah indulge him and return the embrace, and we do the junkie two-step all the way back tae the couch. It wis a relief tae us that we didn't discuss any moral shite aboot sexuality as we kissed eachother. Besides, ah've goat this theory aboot our Rent Boy's preference...

Throughout the foreplay, we both slowly undress, though Rents seemed a bit self-conscious. Nae doubt the poor cunt's nervous aboot mah high expectations when it came tae shaggin, but tae be honest, ah would shagged the life ootay Margaret Thatcher, ah'm so fuckin desperate. Ay course, ah'm not telling this cunt aboot it. An ashtounding shucshesh, wouldn't ye shay, Sean? _Oh yesh, Shimon. Besht triumph I've sheen shinshe Goldfinger in the bocsh offishe._ Shanksh, Sean. Thish one will have tae go doon in the record booksh. Now if ye'll excushe ush, ah believe a shertain cunt ish getting the wrong idea. Ah turn around tae find the Rent boy getting intae position behind us. Glaring, ah grab the shiteing cunt by the shoulders and pull him doon ontae the couch.

**---**Really, ah say, an jist what do ye think ye're daein? Ah ask him, mah eyes icing ower, pure feral. Ah'm normally a lover an no a fighter, but first thing's first. The cunt jist stares back up at us wi those wide, confused eyes an tries tae stammer a reply.

**---**Rents, ah think we booth ken who has mair experience in sexual acts. Ah've had mair burds in the past week than ye've had in your whole puff. Ah think ah'm the cunt qualified tae do the shagging, ah say. Now the cunt looks annoyed an disinterested, which is exactly what ah'm not needing; not after gaun this far. Since the imposing Franco approach failed, ah decided tae take the Spud route an gaze doon at the cunt wit eyes thit are soft, reassuring, an maybe jist a bit pleading. The look that the pit-bull shit-bull terrier gave tae us right before ah sent the mutt into duggy-Hell wit the trusty air rifle. Rents complies wi the look. Poor soft cunt aywis does.

Ah cannae believe that ah pursued this shag wi such an interest; ah'm bored outta mah fuckin skull. Poor Rents is under us, groaning an sticking wi sweat like the cunt jist ran the fuckin triathalon, while ah'm chillin oot up here, not even feeling particularly heated from mah physical exertion.

**---**Is it in yet, Si? the cunt gasps, fir what had tae be the fuckin upteenth time in the past ten minutes, looking like he's aboot tae faint. Ah roll mah eyes an give the cunt the finger, which he cannae see from his position, but ah don't really give a shite.

**---**Nae, wis all ah reply. Maybe ah could be in if Rents wasn't so damn tense. Ah could jist keep forcing masel and give the cunt the worst pain he'd ever experience, but ah don't. Ah reach forward an begin tae rub his bare shoulders, mah hands practically slipping from the massage oan account ay the sweat. The rid-headed cunt eventually relaxes, an ah feel masel slide in. Not feeling a bit ay remorse fir the severe pain thit was aboot tae happen tae the cunt, ah go at him like a fuckin pitbull in heat.

Later that night, we meet up wi Spud an Begbie at the pub. Ah'm absently listening tae that daft cunt Franco talk aboot some poor cunt that indirectly offended him earlier that day and was nae doubt in a hoespital somewhere, but ah'm finding mair amusement in watching Rents at the counter, attempting tae sit oan a barstool beside Spud. Looks painful, and ah smile absently, looking back tae Franco, though ah'm actually attentively listening tae the two mates up at the bar.

**---**Awright, catboy, sais Spud as he smiles daftly at Rents. Ah can tell he's jist taken a dab ay speed, because the wee cunt couldnae sit still tae save his life.

**---**Aye, Spud, returns the Rent boy, shifting hissel uncomfortably in his seat in search ay a position that wid cause hisself less pain. Good luck wit that, whining cunt. Ah smile again, an Spud looks as if he's remembered something fir once.

---By the bye, catboy, how wis 'Diamonds Are Forever'? he asks, an ah savor the look that crosses Renton's face. It's been a fuckin beautiful day.


End file.
